


Untitled

by SlackerGurl



Category: Pedro Pascal - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Eventual Sex, F/M, Fluff, Romance, real person - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlackerGurl/pseuds/SlackerGurl
Summary: This is the beginning of a work-in-progress. It's my first real-person fic, and I'm not entirely comfortable with writing in that mode yet. It feels...odd. But this has been bouncing around my head for a couple of weeks, begging to break free. I'm not exactly sure where it's going, or even IF it's going anywhere. Feedback, while always welcome, is GREATLY appreciated on this one!EDIT for chapter two: Thanks to those who have encouraged me to continue working on this. I'm becoming more comfortable writing in the real-person mode. I hope to add a new chapter every week or two. Stay tuned, and please, keep the feedback coming! It helps!
Relationships: Pedro Pascal/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue: untitled, for now

Our bodies have become accustomed to one another, each sensitive to the other’s movements. We sleep as one, a tangle of arms and legs, in the center of his big bed, our heads sharing the same pillow. Or his shoulder serves as my pillow. Sometimes his chest. I've teased him, saying I’m going to sleep with my head on his belly, which makes him chuckle. I’ll do it eventually. Watch me. We spoon. A lot. If he stirs, I stir. If I try to gently extract myself to use the bathroom, he wakes and sleepily mutters, “Hurry back.” When I crawl back into bed, he wraps me in his arms, places a gentle kiss on my forehead, and falls back to sleep.

I love that he’s a cuddler, that he craves the physical closeness. And he craves it constantly. I’m all too happy to comply. Truth be told, I crave it, too. He was built for cuddling: broad shoulders and strong arms that end in large, masculine hands, a slightly soft, not-quite-dad-bod torso, long, strong legs. We wrap ourselves around one another in bed, on the sofa, on the chaise lounge on his deck… We hold hands. It's rare that we're in the same room and not touching, even when we each have our nose in a book.

He’s a kisser, too, and we share kisses all day long. Quick brushes, longer pauses, passionate breath-taking moments. Lips placed on earlobes, necks, temples, chins, shoulders, hands…even elbows and knees at times. His lips are full and soft, and he knows how to make me weak in the knees with them. 

I’ve never known another man like him. Not to say I’ve known an abundance of them, but… He’s different. Unique. Special. He’s affectionate, open, honest, kind, generous. My happiness seems every bit as important to him as his own. He’s smart, he’s goofy. He’s not afraid to play the fool to elicit a laugh from a child. He’s incredibly comfortable in his own skin and dances with complete abandon. He laughs easily and often, yet he can be serious, thoughtful, insightful. He’s the most delightful combination of contrasts. 

And he’s beautiful. Thick, unruly dark hair. Incredibly soulful, expressive brown eyes that can see straight into my soul. The wrinkles around his eyes deepen when he smiles. And his smile! It guts me. Ab-so-lute-ly GUTS me. Every. Time. He has a cheesy, borderline-porn-star mustache that somehow WORKS on him. Patchy scruff instead of a beard. On any other man, it would look unkempt, but on him… It’s sexy. It’s beautiful. It’s him. Don't get me started on his dimple.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Getting caught up in everything I’m feeling right now. I’m trying to sort it all out, see the path that brought me here. So I guess I should rewind back to the beginning.  
**************************************

To be continued? Would you like to read more? Please let me know!


	2. NYU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our narrator returns to her college days to begin the story of her relationship with Pedro Pascal.

I met Pedro Balmaceda—he wasn’t using Pascal, his mother’s name, yet—at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts. He and his group of friends were a year ahead of me, but allowed a lowly freshman to hang out with them occasionally, then more often. He was a combination of contrasts back then, too. Adorable, but kind of scrawny, intent on honing his craft as an actor, but a complete goofball who preferred partying to studying. There seemed to be an occasional spark between us, and we gravitated toward one another on group outings, but it never developed into a “relationship.” We held hands and hugged, but he did that with every female friend he had. I always suspected he and Sarah Paulson had a friends-with-benefits thing going, but never had any actual confirmation. We were pretty casual about not poking our noses too deeply into one another’s extra-curriculars.

In my junior year—Pedro’s senior year—I began dating Dan, a student from another NYU program. I tried to incorporate him into my Tisch group of friends, but he didn’t mesh too well. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that he might not be right for me. But at the time I'd fallen hard for him. As a result, I began spending less time with Pedro’s and Sarah’s group. We were always glad to see each other when the occasion presented itself, and Pedro would say they missed me, but I was all about Dan for the rest of the year. 

Although I’d drifted away from them earlier in the year, the gang invited me to join their graduation week festivities. Dan didn’t want me to go—and the group made it clear that he was not welcome—but I joined in some of their shenanigans anyway. They’d adopted me when I was new to NYU and they had meant a lot to me for over half my college career. I knew I might not see some of them after their graduation, and I wanted a last chance to spend time with them.

I went to a party at one of the girls’ apartments on the edge of campus two nights before graduation. Everyone was in high spirits, celebrating the end of their university days and the new beginnings they’d been waiting for. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of booze, a lot of music, a lot of dancing. Pedro was always a free spirit on the dance floor, and he was boogying around the small apartment non-stop. When he saw me, he grabbed me into a big bear hug and began twirling me around. We laughed and danced for a long time, joining an occasional conga line or swapping out partners. Everyone there drank too much, me included. I was pretty sure I’d pay for it the next day—with a hangover AND an unhappy boyfriend—but I didn’t care. I was having a blast.

When it was time for me to head back to the dorm, Pedro offered to walk me there. I didn’t think anything of his offer. That was him, watching out for the girls in the group, making sure we weren’t on the streets alone late at night. He’d walked me home many times before, no big deal. 

This walk was a little different than the others, though. He held my hand as he danced his way down the sidewalk, twirling me occasionally, putting his other arm around my waist to do a few waltz or tango steps here and there, taking his time as if he wanted the short journey to last as long as possible. We both laughed, and at one point I looked him in the eye and said, “You are sooooo drunk. I’m glad you’re a fun drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk,” he protested, releasing my waist and twirling me yet again. “I had my last beer at least an hour ago.”

“Then what’s up with you?” I laughed.

“Well,” he began, “This is probably the last time I’ll ever walk you home. It’s been too long since I’ve done it, and I want to enjoy it. I want us to remember it.”

“Ohhhh-kay,” I said as we got to the block where my dorm was located. He slowed his pace, still holding my hand. We paused in the shadows just before we got to the entryway of my building. He gently took my other hand in his, pulling me closer to him. He smiled and looked into my eyes before gently releasing my hands and placing his at my waist. 

Before my tipsy brain grasped what was happening, Pedro was kissing me, gently and sweetly at first. When I didn’t resist him, he deepened the kiss, caressing my lower lip with his tongue, his left hand drifting lightly up my back and into my hair, gently rubbing my neck. I leaned into him, eagerly returning the kiss, sliding my hand up his chest to stroke his chiseled jawline, my tongue meeting his caress for caress. 

After a few glorious moments, I realized what I was doing and broke the kiss, the embrace. Taking a step back from him, I put a hand to my forehead and said, “What…???”

Pedro stood his ground, smiling down at me like the proverbial cat who’d swallowed the canary. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time,” he said, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind my left ear. 

“You… What…???” Good grief, I was sounding like a broken record here.

He caressed my cheek briefly, then said, “I think I’ve been in love with you for over a year now.”

“You've WHAT? Wait!” I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “What are you talking about?”

His forehead wrinkled as he said, “You couldn’t tell?”

“Well, um, no, obviously. How could I tell?”

He rested his hands on my shoulders, gently massaging the tension that had sprung up there. “Really? You couldn’t tell how happy I was to see you? How I put my arm around you when we all went to the movies? How I held you hand when we walked down the street? How I…”

“You do that with EVERYONE!” I whined. “Every girl in our group. Every girl you meet. Every last damned one. You're, like, the ultimate tease!”

He looked up slightly as he thought about it. “Well, maybe…”

“No ‘maybe’ about it, Bud. Every. Damned. Girl.”

His shoulders slumped and his head drooped as he sighed. “I should have told you. I was going to, but I was nervous and the time never seemed right, and then you met Dan, and you seemed happy…”

I sighed, too. “I wish I’d known. Things might have been so different. But I’m with Dan now, and I’m in love with him…”

Pedro raised his head and locked eyes with me. “He’s an asshole, you know. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s a jerk, and even though you seem happy now…”

I put my hand up and placed it on his chest. “Just stop. Please. Don’t say another word about him.”

He took my hand from his chest and pulled it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on my inner wrist, then my palm.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not going to make you happy in the long run.” 

I jerked my hand out of his. I tried to fight back the tears forming behind my eyes. He tried to step toward me again, but I had to escape. I quickly turned away from him, hurrying the final steps toward the door to my dorm. 

I called over my shoulder to him, “Happy graduation, Pedro. Break a leg.”

“Wait!” he called out. But I’d disappeared through the door. 

I hurried to my room, entering quietly and undressing in the dark so I wouldn’t wake my roommate. Then I cried myself to sleep.

Pedro tried to call me a couple of times the next day. When I didn't answer my cell, he called the dorm room phone. At my request, my roommate answered, lying and telling him I was out with Dan. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I figured telling him I was with my boyfriend would send a clear message that I wasn’t available. Pedro had told me his family was flying in from California that day, so I knew I wouldn’t have to duck him for long By noon, he'd stopped calling. 

Pedro and his class graduated from NYU the next day. As an underclassman, I’d been scheduled to help usher the event, but I feigned a sudden illness—heartache counts, right?—and made myself scarce. Shortly after, he returned to California with his family, planning to make his break into television. 

I stayed in New York over the summer, taking a few extra classes. I’d begun to have doubts about my ability to make an actual living as an actor and I’d come to doubt my drive to stick with it, doing whatever it took to “make it.” I realized I wanted security, and acting is one of the last career paths for someone who craves that. I was always a shoulder for my friends when they needed to talk, vent, seek advice, or make a decision, and I realized I enjoyed serving as their armchair therapist. I took classes that would help me toward a fallback career I’d enjoy. 

About a month after my friends' graduation, I received a letter from Pedro…

_Dear Josie:_

_I’m back in California, with my family. I’ve been going on a few auditions, trying to find an agent. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, and it isn’t. But I’m happy to finally be putting myself out there, taking risks. In the meantime, I just started waiting tables at a local restaurant. I think I probably suck at it, well, I'm pretty sure I do, but it’s gas money, you know._

_I wanted to apologize for the way I left things between us. That’s now how I wanted it to play out. I’m not sorry I told you how I feel, but I know I didn’t handle it well. And it wasn't fair to you. When I played it out in my head the days before the party, you were in love with me, too. I didn’t give your feelings for Dan enough credit, and I’m sorry for that._

_Your friendship meant a lot to me at Tisch, and it still does. I hope we can still stay in touch. I miss our talks. A lot. I miss you. A lot. If you can still allow me to be part of your life, I promise I will behave myself and not embarrass you again._

_My cell phone number is still the same. I’d love to hear from you some time. Take care of yourself and don’t study too hard this summer. You know I wouldn’t!_

_Love always,  
Pedro_


End file.
